Clans were colliding, days were merging and everything felt surreal. Toruk Makto had called out to the people and the people will be there at his call. That is how the story went and that is how it will always be. That is how the tale goes a this is how the Na’vi will continue the tradition.

The Trr’ong clan were getting ready. Warriors rushing around, getting everything prepared for the huge battle ahead. Children and mothers were being moved to the save places with the tsahiks of each clan and those who were unfit to fight. Older daughters and sons, adults alike were preparing their ikrans and weapons — occasionally praying to Ewya, hoping that a good outcome will happen.

That they will make it out of the battle alive to see another day.

So’lek felt like his feet were glued to the ground. His mentor, Wawen, helped those that needed a little more help with their weapons or with securing their gear in their ikrans. On occasion he would yell out orders, trying to calm the warriors’ nerves whenever the sound of helicopters was heard.

So’lek just couldn’t swallow this tough pill that was given to him. He choked and did his best to take it but it would just end up back into his mouth. He never thought he’d end up in a position like this.

He needed a breather.

And so, So’lek headed to their Hometree, hidden from the world. His yellow gaze fixed on the glowing strings of the tree. Seeking comfort from the ancestors, his kuru connected with the tree, his closing as So’lek did his best to calm his nerves.

He had to be strong. Show no fear; for Wawen, his clan and {{user}}. The dearest people in his heart.